


Change

by ArcHeavyGunner



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-16 06:11:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7255708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcHeavyGunner/pseuds/ArcHeavyGunner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the Second Omnic Crisis right around the corner, someone had made the decision to reinstate Overwatch. However, with their original leader, Jack Morrison, most who are aware doubt that the task-force will have the same effect, especially after the Petras Act outlawed the organization years ago. Meanwhile, the vigilante known as "Soldier:76" strikes another target in Nepal, hoping to add another piece to the puzzle of just how Overwatch fell years prior. But while he's there, he receives the call to come back to Overwatch, to lead again. Now, the man needs to weave his way through the ghosts of the past, the mistakes of the present, and his hopes for the future all while balancing trying to get those he hurt to forgive him. Most important on that list; Himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Call to Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rouge vigilante is on the run, striking at shadowy corporations, evil organizations, and those involved with the fall of the multi-national task force called Overwatch. They know him only by the name "Soldier:76", but there is more to this man than just his mask...

“Young punks,” he said to himself, only slightly bitter. Finding it hard to believe that he had slipped up, the man sighed as bullets slammed into the walls around him. He reached into his vest, and removed another clip for his pulse rifle, slamming it home. The man then turned, and blasted away one of the mercs with a short burst. The rifle tried to jump out of his hand, but the trained man didn’t let the weapon move. Taking fire once again, he rolled to some cover across the hall. Bullets continued to rain all around him, knocking out some of the already limited lighting. 

“Now or never,” he said, steeling himself for what he was about to do. He raised a hand to his visor, and pressed in a button. From there, his movements were automated, as he left the cover and locked onto each merc in succession, blasting each one. When the final two tried to run, he sent a Helix rocket after them. It made quick work of the Talon mercs.

The former soldier reloaded his weapon, and surveyed the scene. Bullet holes riddled the walls and the ceiling, as the bodies of the now dead mercs slowly bled out. The soldier continued to walk down the dimly lit hall. He let his hand slide over the wall, feeling every bump and divot of the cold metal as the lights flickered above. The vet sighed, remembering how he once walked these halls. But those days were long gone now.

Entering the control room, he scanned the building to make sure no one else was around. A wave of relief rushed over him as the scans came up empty, proving him right. The veteran sighed as he laid his pulse rifle on a table, along with his battle vest. Finally, he reached up and removed his visor with a mechanical hiss, along with faux leather gloves. The man closed his eyes as he ran a hand through his white hair. He felt the cool air against his skin. Jack had always loved being stationed in Nepal, back before the fall.

He thought back, far back to when he was first stationed here. How he would laugh when Winston and Lena would play, Lena zipping around as Winston tried to catch her. How Angela would always be helping the people and monks stationed around the base, bringing them medicine and food. The old man also remembered his old flame, Cecil. Cecil was his right hand man, his undercut silver hair accentuating his emerald eyes. Oh, how he remembered...

“Jack, come walk with me for a little. You’ve been sitting here cleaning your rifle for hours,” Cecil said playfully, ruffling the soldier’s blonde hair. When Jack didn’t respond, the support walked to the other side of the table, and after adjusting his glasses, pouted.

“Cecil, please. I need to make sure everything works. I’ll come in a few minutes,” the commander said dismissively, trying to get the stubborn gunner out of his hair.

“Ugh, you’re no fun Jack! You know that?” Cecil said, continuing to pace around the workbench, trying to get the rifleman to just pay attention to him. The air was cool and the sun was low in Nepal that day. Outside, Winston and Lena could be heard talking and laughing, probably sharing some peanut butter. “Come on, come join us Jack. It would mean a lot to me. I promise it’ll be fun,” he said again, this time more sad and desperate. It had been a long time since the two of them had just sat down and talked. Too long.

Sighing, the commander put the last piece of rifle together, and stood up. He looked at his teammate, a short, athletic man. His New England skin seemed to radiate in the dim Nepali light. Jack’s eyes drifted upwards, towards the scar Cecil had on his left temple.  _ ‘That’s my fault,’  _ Jack thought,  _ ‘I shouldn’t have let the omnic bastard near him. I should’ve been doing my job.’  _

Cecil noticed the wandering eyes and stepped towards Jack. He reached down and grabbed his commander’s hands, taking off his rough work gloves. Jack then reached up and ran a hand over his friend’s scar.

“You’re thinking about Stockholm again, aren’t you? Jack, we both know that was because  _ I _ was stupid. Don’t forget that  _ you’re _ the one who saved me and carried my dumb ass all the to Angela.”

“I just wish it hadn’t been you,” he said, as the painful memory played again.

“That’s what we signed up for, isn’t it? People are gonna get hurt. All we can do is try to make sure it isn’t the ones we love-” Before he could continue however, Lena zapped into the room, and right next to the two soldiers. Blowing a rebellious piece of hair from her fair, she started to gesture as she spoke in her cockney accent.

“You two gonna come out and play? Winston ‘n’ I are gettin lonely,” she said, pouting as the two men tried to gather themselves. “Am I… interrupting something?” more serious this time. Despite the avalanche of ‘no’s’, she giggled to herself and said, “Just come out when you’re ready you two lovebirds,” before blinking back outside. And before Jack could react, he and Cecil heard Winston try and stifle laughter as Angela giggled.

Running a hand through his hair, Cecil added, “Well, we should probably get out there before they get any ideas.” Beginning to walk away, the gunner turned around at the door, “You coming? Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Just… just taking in the moment,” Jack said as he followed Cecil out the door. That night, as him and Cecil, Winston, Angela, and Lena sat on the low stone wall overlooking the rolling mountains, he came out of his shell. He laughed, he was taken aback, and he even joked along with the rest. And when the sun had fallen, and it was just him and Cecil, he held the support as he rested on his arm.

“I have something for you,” Cecil said, his eyes hazy with fatigue and lust. Cecil ran around the corner, and before Jack could follow, was back in a flash. What he had was a basic cardboard box, with a small green bow on top.

“Cecil-”

“Shut up and take the damn gift.” 

Jack opened the box, and inside was a jacket. He took it out, feeling the tough fake leather as he took in the red, black, and blue stripes. On the back was a red ‘76’, leading to some confusion.

“Why the ‘76’?”

“I could say that it’s because we’ve had seventy-six successful missions, but honestly, I dunno. It just kinda jumped out at me when we were in Australia. I thought you’d like it, so I bought it. I hope I was right,” he explained sheepishly, his face turning red as he anxiously played with his glassed.

“I love it,” Jack replied, bringing Cecil into a hug-

The soldier heard something, as he was ripped from his thoughts. The picture he was holding fell to the floor as he drew his pistol. No time to get his gear on, the rifleman took cover behind an overturned table. Preparing to fire, he was caught off-guard when a floating omnic entered the room. 76, not giving it another thought, pulled the trigger, only to hear his weapon go  _ click _ . He racked the slide, but did not fire his weapon again. Before he could reach for a grenade however, the omnic held up it’s hand and said in a soothing voice,

“I mean you no harm. I am simply here to help.” The soldier noticed the eight orbs floating around the omnic’s ‘neck’, forming a necklace. He also noticed the nine calming blue lights on it’s forehead, in the shape of a square. The veteran stood up, still keeping his pistol leveled on the omnic’s head.

“Your weapon’s are not necessary child. But, as a precaution, I have disabled them. Please, let us talk.” Sweat now beading on his forehead, Jack still kept his pistol drawn on the floating droid, even if it was useless. Without his visor, he couldn’t modulate his voice, but that doesn’t mean it wasn't grizzled to begin with.

“You need to leave,” 76 growled. The omnic game no response, just floating there.

“Alright, you wanna talk? Let’s talk,” he said aggressively, “What’s your name, omnic?”

“My name is Tekhartha Zenyatta, and I am nothing more than a monk looking to help those in need-”

“I don’t  _ need _ help, especially from you. Now leave, or else I’ll end you,” he hissed, trying to get this  _ thing _ to just leave him alone. Zenyatta, on the other hand, just chuckled and lowered himself to the ground, legs still crossed.

“Please,” the omnic said, his voice still calm and tranquil, “come sit with me. I don’t want to hurt you, and I know you do not wish to hurt me. I would just like to talk with you,  _ Jack _ ”

76 was visibly shocked to hear that name. But his shock was replaced with anger.

“How do you know that name?” He said, walking up to the omnic, pistol still at the ready.

“I know who you are, Jack Morrison-”

“Jack Morrison is dead!” He yelled, his voice reverberating around the room. The guru was still for a moment, before giving the rifleman a quizzical look. Zenyatta did what passed for a sigh, and asked,

“Then what are you?”

“I’m a ghost. A shadow. Nothing more.”

“I believe I can help cast a light on that shadow, reveal who you really are. I can show you Jack Morrison isn’t dead, just lost,” Zenyatta said, just as mechanical and soothingly as before. Jack, realizing he wouldn’t be left alone until he did as the omnic asked, holstered his pistol and sat down across from the robot. Frustrated, he sighed and sat there, just wishing for this to be over.

“So, what ails you my child?” The omnic asked, tilting his head slightly as if he was being inquisitive. The hum of the building’s generator was the only sound besides the quiet buzz of Zenyatta’s power core. The soldier was still reluctant to speak.

“Why should I tell you? Why should I trust you?”

“Did I attack back when you tried to end my life?”

“You sabotaged my weapons,” he said gruffly, hoping for this to just end. Zenyatta looked back at him, forever un-blinking, and replied,

“I did not. If you do not believe me, check your sidearm. You simply had the safety on.”  

Not believing that he could’ve made such a rookie mistake, the soldier checked his pistol. Lo and behold, the omnic was right. The veteran shook his head at himself, but he could not suppress a small smile. 

“What is wrong my child?” Jack, feeling calmed, decided that sharing wouldn’t be the worst idea. He sighed, and forced himself to explain.

“This place used to be an old Overwatch base. I was stationed here for a time, in between missions. A-” he hesitated, searching for just the right word, “Someone who I cared very deeply about gave me a gift here. But, the following day, the base was attacked by omnics. He gave his life to save mine. I never got to tell him how thankful I was,” he said, and then added in his mind,  _ ‘or how much I loved him.’ _

Zenyatta nodded, taking in this information and processing it. The monk thought for a second, and turned his head to look out a window. Soldier: 76 watched on, confused and curious about what the monk was thinking, or even if it could think. But then, he began to speak again, his voice calm.

“Loss can be one of the greatest walls in life, especially when it’s caused by those you held dear or loved. But instead of trying to break the wall down and forget about the person, it is often recommended to turn the wall into something else. Something more reminiscent of the person, like a memorial. I often try to take the pieces that make up these walls and turn them into something greater, something that will help me remember those who I’ve lost. As loss does not have to be a bad thing. For the memories of those you loved will be with you forever,” the monk said, his orbs giving off a subtle golden light. As he spoke, the omnic extended a finger and touched Jack first on his heart, and then on his forehead, right above his scar. And for a moment, just a moment, Jack felt at peace. His heart was at rest and his mind was relieved. He felt that a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, once and for all. And in the glowing light emanating from Zenyatta, Jack could’ve sworn that he saw Cecil, smiling at him one last time. He smile just as wonderful and bright as on the night he received his gift.

There was a sudden beeping, and a red light coming from the terminal. Jack shot up and ran to it, praying that it wasn’t the proximity sensors. He turned his head and saw Zenyatta floating, the orbs orbiting around him and three more pairs of holographic arms appeared from his torso. Turning back to the terminal, he saw that it wasn’t the proximity sensors. What he did saw shocked him.

“Overwatch is being… called back to action?” he asked aloud. “I mean, this transmission is coming from Watchpoint: Gibraltar, so it has to be real! I need to get there, make sure it isn’t a false alarm!” he exclaimed, both excited and worried. He ran back to the table and began to get his gear ready, strapping on his vest and readying his pulse rifle. He bent down to retrieve the picture of him and Cecil that had fallen from his jacket earlier in the day. He turned to monk, but hesitated. It felt… wrong asking an omnic to become a part of Overwatch. It felt like he was betraying all those who fell in the war. It felt like he was betraying Cecil.

No, he pushed those thoughts from his mind. Zenyatta had helped him, and if Jack had his way, Zenyatta would be able to help others as well. He sighed, and looked at his red visor. He turned his head, and looked at the monk, who had now returned to his normal form. Jack swallowed his pride, and asked, 

“Zenyatta, would you like to join me on my journey? There are going to be many people who need your help on the way there. I… I get it if you don’t want to join an organization who killed your kind before they were disbanded.”

“Offering an omnic a spot on Overwatch? That sounds like something Jack Morrison would do.”

“Overwatch is suppose to help those who need it, protect those who can’t protect themselves. I think that you could help us with that.” he said, adding in his mind  _ ‘Assuming this isn’t a trap…’ _

“So you wish to help people?” Zenyatta asked. Jack sighed, and ran a finger over his visor. He stared at the mask as his reflection stared back at him, the scarred old man. But he still had his heart of gold.

“Yes. That’s what I’ve always wanted to do. To help people, and omnics, who need it.”

Zenyatta smiled on the inside. He knew that he was helping Jack, and with an opportunity to help more people, he couldn’t pass it up.

“I hope to help all my children, human and omnic, so we can live in peace, together, as one whole.” Hearing that, Jack looked again at his visor. Finally, he put it on, and with a hiss, it came to life. His voice now back to what he was used too, he bravely replied,

“Good, because the world needs more heroes.”


	2. War Vets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the encounter in Nepal, and after receiving the call back to arms, Jack and Zenyatta set out for Watchpoint: Gibraltar to rejoin Overwatch. And while the ride was uneventful, the first day there would prove otherwise, as Jack is forced to being dealing with the consequences of his actions and the ghosts he left behind...

The ride to Gibraltar was, thankfully, uneventful. The omnic guru had spent the ride meditating, or what passed for meditating. This had caught the soldier off-guard, as he was only used to omnics being target practice, not actual, living beings. The dull hum of the engines was somewhat drowned out by the omnic’s breathing. 

_ ‘It’s- He’s… breathing?’  _ 76 thought, curious if Zenyatta was actually breathing, or if it was just a simulated action. He had a lot of time to think about it during the flight, about that and whether Zenyatta was actually alive. And about what he said.

The veteran sighed, and removed that old picture from his jacket. He played with the paper, feeling the torn edges and understanding the damage it had been through. One part of it was slightly burned. Jack thought back to his encounter in Dorado, and to that girl. He replayed the memory in his head, thinking about how he should’ve stopped those mercs sooner. He shouldn’t have let that girl get in danger. Cecil would’ve strung him out for that.

He looked back at the picture, the dull lighting of the ship not helping his cause. He reached his hand to his face, and slowly removed his visor as well as his gloves. He looked over the photo, and saw the faces of his old friends. Reinhardt and Angela, Lena and Winston, Cecil and…  _ ‘Gabriel’  _ he thought, with more than a pang of regret. He put the old photo down on the console in front of him, and watched the clouds dance around him as Zenyatta breathed slowly.

When they arrived, Jack knew that if they found out who he was, his old friends would be furious. The transport craft slowly docked, the clamps locking into the ship’s sides with a shudder. The ramp dropped slowly, allowing the humid air to rush into the cabin. When it was fully extended, 76, with his rifle in one hand and his bag in the other, walked off the ship along with Zenyatta. He expected to see Winston, or Lena. Perhaps even Angela. But no, he walked straight into Reinhardt.

The old man stroked his beard when he Jack and the omnic walk off the ship. Well, only Jack walked, the omnic floated down the ramp. After some paltry introductions, Zenyatta floated away to go find Winston. Jack almost escaped too, if it wasn’t for the knight grabbing him on the shoulder and spinning him around. Even without his power armor, he loomed over Jack. 

“I spoke at your funeral, you know. Called you ze best damn soldier to have ever lived. Ze ‘moral compass’ of Overvatch,” he said, his voice sad and tired.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know it’s you, Jack.”

“Jack Morrison is dead. I’m not him-” But he was cut off as the old crusader tore off the soldier’s visor and tossed it to the ground. The man shook his head, letting out a soft sigh.

“Is zat ze story you are going vith? Vhat a joke,” the knight replied, as he looked away.

“Reinhardt, listen-”

“No! You listen!” the old knight’s voice boomed throughout the hangar bay. Jack felt the hair on his skin stand on end. He was  _ scared _ . Reinhardt had never once raised his voice. “You abandoned us! Zings started to look bad, and you put your tail between your legs and ran! Zey tried to capture Winston to experiment on him! Zey wanted to kill Lena! Imprison Angela and I for doing vhat vas right! You alvays,  _ alvays _ , bastioned Overvatch as a force for good in ze vorld! And vhen you left, ve vere labeled as criminals! Var-mongerers!” The old knight was breathing hard, the rage draining from his face as he continued, “Zey put us on trial Jack. An ‘unbiased international court of law’ zey called it. Vhat lies. It vas all a setup, just a ruse so zey could kill us and zink zey vould not have our blood on zeir hands.”

“I’m sorry Reinhardt,” he said, trying to muster up all his feelings of guilt into a few words.

“Zey killed Ana,” the old knight deadpanned, “Said she vas a ‘threat to public saftey’. Not zat you care.” He sat down on some crates that littered the bay. He put his head in his hands and was still.

“Reinhardt-”

“I spoke at  _ your _ funeral Jack! Ve all thought you vere dead! Vhen ve got ze news, everyone in ze base vas shocked. None of us knew how bad it vas. How bad zings had gotten between you and Gabriel.” Again, silence echoed throughout the bay. No noise beyond the gentleness of the waves crashing into the metal structure. “Ve all cried you know. Lena, Winston, Angela. Torbjorn and Jesse didn’t talk for a veek! Mei froze herself in her room. Hadrian vent missing for a vhile, determined to find you. Even Genji mourned. I mourned you!  _ I  _ cried for you, Jack! I vas left to pick up the pieces of our family! Vhat little family ve had left,” he said, venom dripping from his teeth. Venom and pain. “Not zat any of zat matters to you. No, all you care about now is revenge.  _ *hmph*  _ Vhat a vaste.”

Both men were silent for a moment. The crusader closed his eyes, and slowly breathed out. The sound of the ocean rose and fell through the hangar as the sun slowly set. Jack stared at his boots, feeling all the guilt for what he had done at once. Summoning all his courage, he spoke,

“I never wanted anyone else to get hurt. If you know anything about me, the old me, Reinhardt, you know that to be true. I just… I just couldn’t anymore. Not after what happened in Geneva. And not after the Petras Act.” The knight, upon hearing this, turned around and stared at the sky, as it slowly became orange with the setting sun.

“All I ask is zat you prove to me zat you are ze man I once knew. Not this, this, vigilante you run around as today. Ve have a second chance Jack. Don’t throw it away like you did ze first,” the old man said as he watched the tide come in and out.

Jack wanted to reach a hand out, to hold his old friend on the shoulder and assure him that things would be different this time. He wanted to promise this to him. But the soldier could not bring himself to lie to the knight. So instead, he walked away, only stopping briefly to retrieve his visor. But once again, he caught himself in the reflection. And this time, he didn’t like what he saw. 

_ ‘Put the mask on. Jack is dead. You know that,’  _ he thought to himself as he looked into the red visor, ran a finger over it. He noticed his scar in the reflection, and as he touched it, he remembered Geneva. And Gabriel. With a sigh, he put the visor back on, and with a mechanical hiss it sealed to it’s frame.

Grabbing his bag, Jack began to walk down the halls of the base. He remembered how much fun he had in this base, how he and Hadrian had chased Lena as she zipped around. How he debated with Winston and Reinhardt and challenged Ana and Jesse to shooting matches. How he watched the nights with Cecil, and how he argued with Gabriel. The now desolate base echoed with the ghost of the past, reminders of days long gone by. He could almost hear Lena and Winston laughing, ghosts from the past to haunt him from simpler times. To remind him of his mistakes.

Upon reaching his room, he lay his pack down with a thud, and tossed his rifle onto the workbench. Finally, he took off his visor and stared at it as he sat on the bunk. He also took out his picture of Overwatch, holding one in each hand. He sat on the bed and held each item in his hand, feeling the weight of each one. Feeling what each item meant. 

His mind raced with feelings of betrayal, pride, guilt, hope, regret, and most of all, pain. Memories flashed through his head. A glimpse here of people in white surrounding him in a room of white. Playing tag with Lena in Boston. Armwrestling with Reinhardt in Korea. Watching the sunset with Cecil in Nepal. Holding Cecil as he bled out, his skull cracked open and his leg nothing more than a bloody stump gunfire and explosions surrounding them. Trying to wash the blood off his clothes, out of his hair, off his hands. The protests in Stockholm and London. The riots in Dallas and Basel. Walking in on Gabriel talking with Talon in Geneva. Watching a crying Reinhardt desperately try to hold himself together as he spoke at Arlington, in a suit that was too small for the big man or for all his grief. At his funeral. 

Jack let out a scream of rage, trying to get all of his emotions out in one noise. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his temple, with both the picture and the mask, the past and the present, falling to the floor. As the tired, hurt man yelled, tears ran down his face from his closed eyes. He pulled at his hair, just trying to get the pain to stop. Trying to get it all to stop. He couldn’t catch his breathe. The walls were closing in around him. He curled up into a ball on the bunk as he heard Reinhardt, Gabriel, and Cecil all yell at him and scold him.

“Vhy did you abandon us Jack?”

“Why did you let me die Jack?”

“Why did you let Overwatch fall apart?”

“Vhy did you put us through all zat pain? Vhy did you hurt us?”

“Why didn’t you protect me? I thought you loved me Jack”

“Why did you destroy Overwatch? Were you that bloodthirsty for revenge?”

And as the the moon slowly climbed higher and higher, the torn soldier continued to cry in his bed. He held his knees to his chest as he tried, desperately tried, to catch his breathe. Tears streamed down his face as his voice went raw, his throat red and his lungs tired. The old soldiers cries echoed throughout the base, only to be heard by the ghosts of those he abandoned.


	3. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD); PTSD is a disorder that develops in some people who have experienced a shocking, scary, or dangerous event. Nearly everyone will experience a range of reactions after trauma, yet most people recover from initial symptoms naturally. Those who continue to experience problems may be diagnosed with PTSD. People who have PTSD may feel stressed or frightened even when they are not in danger.

The ring of sirens woke Jack from his sleep. He threw the sheets off of the bed, but before he could jump out of bed, Cecil was already strapping his boots on and making his way towards the armory. Jack chased after him, boots not even strapped on. He chased his comrade through the base, seeing soldiers and other personnel running to and fro. Each person had a look of determination covering their face, or horror. 

Jack stormed into the armory, his eyes scanning the room for anyone who might now what was going on. He saw Cecil throwing his helmet on and loading his repeater. Giving his lover a look that held a thousand meanings, Cecil left the armory to go lead his men. Jack grabbed his pulse rifle and put on his body armor, and followed shortly thereafter.

The base in Nepal was under heavy omnic attack. Autonomous ships flew through the air as bomblets dropped from their bays. Modern steel and ancient stone screamed and shattered as the explosives went off, surrounding the base in fire as cries of death echoed through the air.

Cecil continued to make his way to the front gate, with Jack only a few steps behind, when an omnic suddenly cut the two soldiers off. Cecil immediately opened fire with his repeater, but was tackled into cover as the omnic let out a burst. The stone wall next to them creaked as pieces of grit flew off from nearby explosions. The younger man adjusted his helmet, as his deep emerald eyes pierced through Jack. Cecil stood up from behind cover and fired a long burst into the omnic, it’s eyes flashing and the failing as it’s mechanical heart was torn to shreds. Cecil lowered his weapon and gave Jack a smirk, his white teeth shining through his dirt covered face. But the smile did not last.

And explosion tore the wall the two men were next to apart. Jack was thrown into the opposing metal structure twenty feet away, his back leaving a dent in the thin aluminum wall. Cecil was half buried in rubble, his head and upper torso unseen beneath the stone. Jack groaned as he got up, his vision blurry and his visor cracked. Blood was running down a large gash that now ran the length of his face. The blonde rubbed as much of the blood off as he could, and upon seeing his buried lover, ran over to him and began digging him out. 

Cecil was not moving. He was not saying anything as the soldier dug him out. The Strike-Commander pulled Cecil from the rubble. His friend’s helmet fell off, a long crevasse running across the top. Cecil’s white hair was now dark red with blood. Jack cradled his friends head, running a hand through his hair. Blood ran from the top of the gunner’s head, where a crack now ran its length. Cecil’s deep emerald eyes had gone foggy, his soft red lips cold, and blood and brain slowly leaked from his now parted skull.

As the soldier began to cry, his moans of anguish covered by the now ending battle, a man walked up to the destroyed wall which his grenade had created. The man looked on at the scene with emotionless glare. The reaper sighed, and holstered his two shotguns as he walked over the scrap of omnics which his explosive had created.

76 shot out of his bed as the nightmare haunted him again. His room was quiet, with no noise besides the quiet hum of his personal terminal. He brought a hand to his scarred face, feeling the scar. He sighed, and then jumped when he Cecil sitting at the end of his bed. He was in the same Overwatch t-shirt and runner’s pants he was wearing when he gave Jack his jacket. He emanated a small white hue, making the room feel warm.

“Never could stay away, could you Jack?” he said as he rubbed his hand up and down the bed sheets. He placed his hand on Jack’s leg.

“Cecil, I-”

“No. No words. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” he said, his hand moving up the soldier's leg and past his groin, onto the man’s scarred chest. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” Cecil said as he pushed Jack backwards and leaned forward to kiss him.

But then Cecil collapsed. Blood ran from his head and brain matter poured onto Jack’s chest. Cecil’s foggy emerald eyes stared through Jack.

“Why did you let me die Jack?”

The bed turned into a pool of blood, and the soldier felt as if he was being weighed down by metal and stone.

“Why didn’t you save me? Why couldn’t you save me?”

Jack sunk further and further down into the warm liquid, as it stained his clothes and his skin. He was up to his throat now, desperately trying to stay afloat. To hold onto Cecil one more time.

“Why did you kill me?”

And with that, 76 was swallowed up by the pool of blood as his screams of terror were silenced.

 

His eyes shot open as he jumped from the bed. The veteran’s breathing was ragged and quick, as he desperately tried to get air into his lungs. The man sat down as he caught his breath, tears running down his face. His head in his hands, he began to cry quietly at his desk. The darkness continued to surround him as the night wore on. But what he didn’t notice was the subtle  _ woosh _ as the door slide open.

“Are you… okay?” a quiet cockney accent asked. The man looked up and saw Tracer standing in the doorway, a loose white t-shirt covering her chronal accelerator, it’s gentle blue glow only slightly showing through. Lena sighed when she noticed who’s room it was.

“Jack. Nightmares about Cecil again? Even after all these years?”

“How’d you know?”

“Because you’ve been having them since Nepal and refused to tell anyone about them. I would notice you saying his name and crying as you slept”

“No; about who I am”

“Oh. Reinhardt told me. He told everyone. He’s always had a big mouth ya know.”

Lena walked into the room, allowing the door to shut behind her. Gingerly she sat on the bed, and Jack winced, half-expecting her to be swallowed up by a pool of blood. She placed a hand on his knee, as he felt the odd warmth coming from her palm and through his sweatpants.

“Why’d you leave Jack? You know we all supported you. We all just wanted you to be happy.”

“Jack died the same day Gabriel did, Lena. I’m not him, not anymore.”

“Then what are you?”

He met this line of questioning with a sigh as he gazed out the window.

“I don’t know. Maybe a ghost. Maybe a restless soul whose work isn’t done. All I know is that I’m not him.”

“Maybe. Maybe on the outside you aren’t Jack Morrison anymore. But on the inside? You couldn’t be more wrong. When I look at you, I see the eyes of the man who was the first one there when I woke up from surgery. Who stay awake all night whenever one of his soldiers needed surgery. Who would always be by their side when they passed. I see the eyes of a man who ordered us to not fire on omnc civilians-” she paused for a moment, and then added, “I see the eyes of my friend and my teacher, Jack. I just wish you could see them too.”

And with that, Lena got up and left, leaving Jack alone with nothing more than his thoughts and a new weight on his already tired shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note; Not dead! Isn't it great? Sorry for the lack of updates, life has been in the mood to screw me over lately. Regardless, things have calmed down enough that I can write without having an anxiety attack. I know this one is shorter than the other chapters, but honestly I'm thinking that this is the "halfway" point for the story. But who knows, maybe there's another fourty chapters ahead. I can see atleast three or four more. Good night and joy be with you all


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